


Close To You

by Moonlights_Inkwell



Series: Dick Grayson Fics [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Injury, M/M, No pronouns used for Reader, aftermath of canon typical violence, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlights_Inkwell/pseuds/Moonlights_Inkwell
Summary: Dick may have gotten hurt on patrol, but that doesn't mean that the two of you can't spend a nice night together.





	Close To You

The twilight has cast your bedroom in a near magical purple that seems almost otherworldly as you rest your head against the pillow, eyes half shut as your lips turn up glad for the unusual feeling of someone actually being beside you so early in the evening. You smile at the feeling of fingertips trailing slowly across the thin skin of your wrist as Dick traces patterns there, thin fingers leaving the faint sensation of twisting and twirling lines in his wake. The smile is soft, and his smile is a gentle thing in return. You’ve insisted on his being in bed- his last patrol went wrong in the worst way, meaning that he had crawled home with a bullet lodged in his arm and a broken rib- and while Dick certainly kept to being in bed with as little complaint as humanly possible, he had made sure that you didn’t leave his side unless it was completely necessary. His sweet little smiles and wide blue eyes ensure that he could complain constantly and you still wouldn’t be put out by his requests for water and soup and plumped pillows and moist towels, (and the fact that he’s liberal with kisses of gratitude helps too).  
“…You look pretty like this.” Dick whispers into the nearly silent room, his vague and indescribable patterns slowly devolving into dashes and lines that resemble letters. “Not that you don’t always look pretty, but… God.” His voice is soft, wistful in a way that’s completely alien to you. It makes your smile widen, and his wind-chapped lips trail to the junction of your chin and neck. His kisses are sweet like he’s seldom kissed you before and is terrified of hurting you. Dick’s kisses make it almost difficult for you to remember that he broke a rib throwing himself off of a roof to keep away from a costumed Super Villain, more like Dick truly was the rich-boy ward of Bruce Wayne that the papers made him out to be. You can take the boy out of Gotham, but you can’t take the claws of the Gotham Rags off of him- even if he leaves to a different city and gets a job as a cop.  
“Dick. I’m just in your shirt.” You chuckle softly, fingers twisting into the blanket as your eyes open once more and catch onto the sight of the bumpy glow-in-the-dark stars that Dick had plastered on to detract from the popcorn ceiling. The stars were always the thing that greeted you when your eyes opened but had been Dick’s idea-even though he so rarely slept on his back to see them. He had mentioned once that he had been terrified of the dark as a small boy, but that he had been too scared to ask Bruce for the stars that now decorated your ceiling, and you had insisted that he put them up for during the night, even if he only saw them on his way back from Patrol. The stars were a gentle reminder of the boy that he used to be, but that the stars he always wanted would lead him back to you. As if you were some sort of beautiful creature hidden among the stars, like that movie about the fallen stars that he had seen as a teen. You hear his soft little chuckle as he leans down to gently kiss your thumb, wincing as a small cut in his top lip drags against the slightly salty skin.  
“I know.” He mumbles against the skin, then continues pressing kisses across your palm and down to your wrist. The T-shirt is old; with a small hole in the sleeve, a large stain that never came out no matter how many times he washed it, and a tear in the hem at the bottom, and somehow it remains Dick’s favourite article of clothing to see you in. Each and every time he sees you wearing it, his fingers fly to your hips and slowly tug you to his side before pressing kisses to your neck; but right now seeing as he can’t do his usual manoeuvres he seems to be doubling down his efforts on kissing your hand. You turn your head slowly to look at him and feel your heart stop. Dick has always been pretty. Pretty, tanned and smiling, with his glittery eyes and perfect teeth and flawless skin. Always the showman, even now with his head tilted to the side as he smiles up at you, and your smile only seems to encourage his own and lead to his lips pulling back from your hand to pucker his lips. You smile softly and lean up onto your elbow only to dip down and gently kiss him.  
His uninjured arm slowly winds around your waist, gently tugging you on top of you before letting out a loud whine of pain, triggering you to pull off with wide and worried eyes. You let your fingers ghost across the side of his ribs that are completely undamaged. He lets out a quiet and slightly angry groan as you let out a quiet whisper of his name.  
“I just wanna hold you.” He whines and your smile returns, weaker and slightly sadder as you shuffle downward to rest your head on the pectoral of the undamaged side. His smile returns too, a weaker form of what it had once been. “…I can’t even hug my goddamn [S/O].” Dick whispers and you lean up to kiss him once more, a little harder to keep him from growing any further upset.  
“…Wait until that rib heals up, Grayson. And then I’ll let you do more than kiss me.” You offer as little more than a teasing remark, but can’t keep from noticing how his face lights up at the prospect.  
“Promise?”


End file.
